Eureka! (I Have Found It)

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99.9% of men are fuckin’ pathetic.

Don’t believe me, be my guest and go click around the blogging universe a bit — just remember to come on back and give your beautiful lady parts a good rub down in the enlightened land of TRD.

Besides, those lady parts have had a long disappointing week and they deserve it. You’ve earned that euphoria. You know the one that encompasses your body when that orgasm finally takes hold, and your thighs begin to twitch, knees begin to fold inward, all while you are forcing yourself to maintain the touching when every indicator in your body is telling you to stop.

Stay with it, Babygirl. Scroll on down with one hand, touching your gorgeous clit in firm tight circles with the other, wetter and wetter, faster and faster now, ever so passionately and… ummmm…. here… it… comes…. ahhh.

Settle in Kitty Cats, cause you are in for a wet one.

But before we get there, indulge me a bit on my outing of the male gender as the clueless dipshits that they are. Don’t feel like clicking around to confirm my theory? Fair enough.

I’ll save you the effort and summarize what you already know. You will likely find a (1) bunch of morons with dick pic avatars and super-aggressive straight past 3rd Base pickup lines, (2) male selfie divas reminiscent of Instagram queens with “hey-look-at-me” poses just above their reblogs of porn posts (apparently these geniuses don’t have careers, parents, future plans, etc.), and of course, (3) your run of the mill guys who have no fucking clue about what a woman wants to hear, so they take their crack at writing about it, which is my personal favorite.

It really should be Pay-Per-View to witness these Hemingway’s call women worthless pigs, and even worse, to almost always do so with just unforgivable grammar and punctuation. Sure, call them “worthless pigs” and “useless whores”, but dude, can you close your fucking parentheses for fuck’s sake? (Note to self: make sure to proofread and remove all typos from Blog Post before publishing; that would be really embarrassing.

Anyways, it seems like nobody with a dick takes the time to figure out what makes women’s clocks tick. Women are really not all that complicated, so it’s practically laughable to see that almost no men in the vortex-of-time-suckage, also known as microblogging, have taken a moment to figure it out and discover what I know and implement with surgical-like precision. And for the record, yes, I am well aware of that unclosed parentheses up yonder and it is totally bothering me too. Here you go: “)”, for safe measure.

My blog on the other hand, is different. Whether you love it or hate it, one thing is for certain: it is very much different. Sure there are a few really good blogs out there, but by and large, it’s a bunch of asshats.

My blog is different, in that it is a discovery, in a sense of how to reach a woman and soak her panties. I’ve found you reach her right in the most difficult of all places to reach her, by putting in the time and effort, to reach her in her imagination.

In her beautiful mind and heart. You expose yourself to her, in all your bumps and bruises, and then you tell her exactly what you would do to her body, in the most vivid detail, if she were only in your grasp, knowing full well that she isn’t and won’t be.

You dance with her in the idea of us, for just long enough to know that saturation is taking root, and she will take it from there when she touches that beautiful little pussy I pine for.

But apparently, as I shout Eureka, no men are taking notice and the onslaught of unsolicited dick pics continue. Droves of sad discolored weird penises in HD are sent across the Ethernet cable, over the World Wide Web, probably some NSA servers, all ending up directly in your Message box. Thank you, SirTinyTwoTonedDick999, we all can use a good laugh from time to time.

But on the flip side, what I have discovered is better than gold. This is where I exhibit that discovery.

Note to ladies: this is the part where you might want to start unbuttoning those jeans. One step ahead of me? Well, Papa is proud.

This is where I tell you, Miss Reader, exactly what my day will look like, but with you weaved into my reality, because it’s just hotter to read it that way.

Today, after dropping a friend at the airport, I know what my reality holds.

I know I’ll come home and send a wink your way to set your panties ablaze. I’ll grab you, by the throat, shove you right up against the wall and pull your pants down and finger you into a cumming mess and I’ll do it with the sinister fuckin’ smile on my face the whole time.

I’ll pull my fingers out of you. I’ll make you taste yourself and I’ll take in every moment with pride, smiling that evil grin.

I’ll eat your pussy so fuckin aggressively you will wonder if I was bitten by a zombie at Terminal A. I won’t stop until you have cum a few more times and then I’ll kiss you with my beard soaked in your flavors.

I will slap you right on your sensitive pussy when I pull your head off the edge of the bed, shove my cock in your mouth, and rest a Hitachi wand right over your clit and lips while I watch you flip the fuck out with my cock taking your air away.

My sinister smile will revisit me again.

I’ll pound your sweet little soaking wet pussy and make you cry in intense pleasure from the onslaught of nerve endings being put through the wringer.

You will be thoroughly ruined when I direct my attention to your little ass. Hair will stick to your neck and I’ll drive three fingers inside you and grip your pussy like a bowling ball as I slide my stiffness in your back door. You will kick and squirm and love every moment of the intensity directed your way. I’ll slap your tits. I’ll bring the wand to your clit once more.

Tick tock, Kitten. Boarding time is a few hours away.


And that boys, is how it’s done.


Originally published at The Romantic Dominant.